by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
The other night, Mrs. B and I re-watched the 1999 BBC adaptation of David Copperfield. Superb. And what a cast: young Daniel Radcliffe as David, the legendary Maggie Smith as Betsy Trotwood, Bob Hoskins as Micawber, Ian McKellen hilariously chewing the scenery as Mr. Creakle, and so on down the line.
It made me wonder again at how Dickens, with quill and ink, turned out massive tomes, full of plot twists and unforgettable characters, like Peggotty, Steerforth, Mr. Dick, Barkis, Uriah Heep. Dickens never gives us colorless, throwaway story people.
So I went on a little journey to research Dickens’ method. I wanted to find out if he was an outline guy, a pants guy, or something in between. My conclusion is that he started a project with the “big picture” in mind, along with some main characters, but allowed himself room to expand and explore as he went along, with help from a trusted beta reader and his own wife.
We know Dickens wrote in serial form, sometimes in periodicals, sometimes in pamphlets. I read somewhere that anxious readers would often gather at the docks when the boats came in with the delivery of the latest installment.
I discovered a massive biography of Dickens by John Forster, the man who read almost everything Dickens wrote before it was published. In the clip below, Forster tells about the writing of Oliver Twist. (“Kate” was Dickens’ wife.)
Then, on a “Tuesday night,” at the opening of August, he wrote, “Hard at work still. Nancy is no more. I showed what I have done to Kate last night, who was in an unspeakable ‘state’ from which and my own impression I augur well. When I have sent Sikes to the devil, I must have yours.”
“No, no,” he wrote, in the following month: “don’t, don’t let us ride till to-morrow, not having yet disposed of Fagin, who is such an out-and-outer that I don’t know what to make of him.” No small difficulty to an inventor, where the creatures of his invention are found to be as real as himself.
The ending of The Old Curiosity Shop was suggested by Forster:
He [Dickens] had not thought of killing her [Little Nell], when, about half-way through, I asked him to consider whether it did not necessarily belong even to his own conception, after taking so mere a child through such a tragedy of sorrow, to lift her also out of the commonplace of ordinary happy endings so that the gentle pure little figure and form should never change to the fancy. All that I meant he seized at once, and never turned aside from it again.
This sums up the Dickens “method”:
Its [The Old Curiosity Shop] effect as a mere piece of art, too, considering the circumstances in which I have shown it to be written, I think very noteworthy. It began with a plan for but a short half-dozen chapters; it grew into a full-proportioned story under the warmth of the feeling it had inspired its writer with; its very incidents created a necessity at first not seen; and it was carried to a close only contemplated after a full half of it had been written.
I draw a few lessons from Mr. Dickens.
1. Plan your novel, but give it room to breathe. Dickens didn’t sit down with no idea of where he was going. He started with a main character in mind, a set of problems for that character, some secondary characters, and an envisioned outcome. But for each section he wrote he was flexible in how things developed. He could change his plan or his characters if he so desired. I can’t prove this, but I have a feeling James Steerforth in David Copperfield was such a character. Initially a hero to David, he became the driver of the tragic Little Emily subplot.
2. Unforgettable fiction is written when you are imbued with “warmth and feeling.” Note: You can’t get that from a machine. You get candy bars and soft drinks from a machine, not living, breathing, blood-pounding, heart-racing fiction, the only kind that turns browsers into readers, and readers into fans.
3. You produce warmth and feeling by experiencing the lives of your characters. The great alchemy of unforgettable fiction is moving your characters from your head to your heart. The great Dwight Swain wrote: “People read fiction for feeling. Whether they know it or not, they grope for stimuli that move them. The thing in fiction that gives them this stimulation is emotion projected through characters.”
You’ve got to feel the emotion before you can project it. An added benefit, Swain says, is that this how you produce “zest”—the “best way to escape the fatigue and boredom that endless hours of writing often bring.”
Recall what Forster said, that “the creatures of his invention are found to be as real as himself.” In the 1850 preface to David Copperfield, Dickens wrote:
I do not find it easy to get sufficiently far away from this Book, in the first sensations of having finished it, to refer to it with the composure which this formal heading would seem to require. My interest in it, is so recent and strong; and my mind is so divided between pleasure and regret—pleasure in the achievement of a long design, regret in the separation from many companions—that I am in danger of wearying the reader whom I love, with personal confidences, and private emotions.
4. Get the benefit of another set of eyes. A great editor or beta reader is gold. You’re too close to your manuscript to spot subtle—or sometimes obvious—errors. You may be blind to an obvious plot hole or undeveloped character motivation. If you don’t deal with them now, readers and reviewers will deal with them later.
5. Be developing your next project. Dickens had a family to support and debts to be paid. He always had a next project in mind. He kept a notebook of ideas. Forster: “In it were put down any hints or suggestions that occurred to him. A mere piece of imagery or fancy, it might be at one time; at another the outline of a subject or a character; then a bit of description or dialogue; no order or sequence being observed in any. Titles for stories were set down too, and groups of names for the actors in them.”
And that’s not humbug. Comments welcome.
A weighty subject. I’m anxious to see what the Killzoner Team response is.
“Plan your novel but give it room to breathe” is an apt description. I’m neither plotter nor pantser, but have the general idea of where I’m going and am willing (okay sometimes I have to be dragged) to change course if needed. You gotta do what’s right for that particular story.
It’s called “listening to the book.”
I hit my 30K wall and my story is gasping for breath.
But still alive!
I’m afraid having to read, and pick apart Dickens in English literature classes way back when spoiled his writing for me. Funny how high school courses that should’ve inspired students to read, instead, sent us in to spasms of boredom mixed with dread and angst at the papers that had to be written. Thanks for the fascinating details of his writing life. Some great examples and food for thought. Especially “from the head to the heart.”
Yeah, Dickens needs to be read for enjoyment first…plenty of time to analyze in a college class.
@Kelly – you’re so right. To this day I do not have an appreciation of ‘classic’ literature because it was shoved down my throat in school. A few of them I get around to reading on my own as an adult, but I’d generally rather read anything BUT classic literature because of that experience in school. If they had at least *occasionally* let you pick something yourself to mix in with the ‘forced to read’ content….
As a devotee of “Inside the Actor’s Studio”, I believe that James Lipton and his guests taught me a little bit about what method acting is all about. As I understand it, method actors tap into personal experiences and emotions to bring life to characters who otherwise exist only on the page.
As an author, that resonates with me. While I write in shifting third POV, every chapter is written in the voice of the character who owns the scene–both narrative and dialogue. One chapter may highlight the naivete of a child, with the next chapter highlighting the cold, lethal world view of a killer. It’s a subtle yet effective way to bond readers to characters, whether to love them or hate them. When I’m in the zone, I disappear into the story and merely report on what’s going on around me.
What Dickens did so well for me (and, say, Melville did not) was to bring vivid characterizations even to the walk-on parts. I love reading Dickens, though it always takes a few chapters to tune my brain to the language and sentence structure of old(e).
That’s his “secret sauce,” IMO, what he does with even the minor characters. It’s the spice, the delight, in the stories.
If you don’t deal with them now, readers and reviewers will deal with them later. Ouch, Jim!
Thank you for the backstory on Dickens. Fascinating to learn about the process of such an author.
My “current” project–for the last umpteen months–is still mostly in my head. I’ve written and then re-written the opening, finally landing on one I like. I have a fair idea of the ending. And I know who the characters are, but now I need to get to know them as confidantes and friends.
I think I’m a plantser. 🙂
Yes, “plantser” is becoming more common these days. Dickens would approve.
Insightful lessons from Dickens. I strongly agree with all of these, especially “warmth and feeling,” which, as you mention, is something only we humans can experience.
I’d add his gift for finding and growing the epic within the ordinary and thus creating a universal appeal. In Great Expectations Pip is an orphan, of which there were many, living with his sister and her husband. He embarks on a journey that becomes an epic one with a story filled with depth and emotional resonance. I read it for the first time a few years ago and was floored.
Thanks for another keeper of a post!
You’ll find this interesting, Dale. Dickens wrote to Forster about finishing that last part of GE:
“As to the planning out from week to week, nobody can imagine what the difficulty is, without trying. But, as in all such cases, when it is overcome the pleasure is proportionate. Two months more will see me through it, I trust. All the iron is in the fire, and I have ‘only’ to beat it out.”
We can relate!
Jim, thanks for sharing Dickens’s great wisdom that is as valid today as it was back then.
Like Kelly, the dull, plodding way literature was taught in school turned me off to a number of excellent authors. I need to go back and reexamine classics. I’m sure they will be much more compelling, educational, and enlightening than they were in dull high school classes.
Although when I reread Moby Dick several years ago, it still struck me as way too long and tedious!
Y’know, Moby-Dick is a love or dread thing. I’ve read it three times. I love it! But I confess I skim or skip the “whale facts” parts. What Dickens was to characters Melville was to language. It’s like the ocean itself–dangerous, roiling, sometime calm before the storm! In world lit, it was so far ahead of its time. It laid the groundwork for novels like Gravity’s Rainbow, Kesey’s Sometimes a Great Notion, David Foster Wallace, etc.
LOL. As a biology person, the whale parts were my favorite!
I found Moby Richard, as we probably must call it now, to be unreadable. I much preferred the Mad Magazine opening:
“Call me fish meal.”
Mad of course improves everything, especially movies.
A Christmas Carol is my absolute favorite and the kind of story I like to write. I have a special love for redemption stories.
That’s the reason A Christmas Carol is the most beloved story in our literature.
One of the things that fascinates me about Dickens and some of his contemporaries (e.g, Wilkie Collins) was that they wrote in serial form. That would be impossible for me to do. As a mystery writer, I often go back to a previous scene in the story to plant a red herring or a real clue.
“People read fiction for feeling.” I’m learning that more and more as I write. Although I want to challenge the readers with a good puzzle, most of the comments I get on my books are about the connection readers have with the characters.
My surmise is that Dickens had the general ending in mind, and then when he got to the last parts to bring together all the threads, he worked with that certain agony that I mentioned in the comment to Dale. But then came the tremendous satisfaction of completion!
I may have the destination in mind, but the journey is obscured by fog. The rising sun brings unexpected details that pique my interest and provide a diversion, which brings an even more glorious story out. My stories are driven by the experiences of my characters as events unfold. So, I guess I am similar to Mr. Dickens in that way.
Me thinks, he is a pantser.
Driving at night with headlights, seeing only so far ahead. Yet, I would say, with a destination in mind…subject to change.
I highly recommend the movie, THE MAN WHO INVENTED CHRISTMAS about Charles Dickens and his creation of A CHRISTMAS CAROL from the first idea to the final pages of the story.
No, he’s not just staring at a bare page with a quill in his hand although some of that happens. Real world things like his need for another hit and immediate cash after several flops push him to write a story fast so it can be out by Christmas.
We follow him around London as bits and pieces of the story flow around him and wait to become part of the story. A waiter named “Marley,” people talking about poverty and the poor, and a happy dancing pair of shopkeepers start to fill his cast and give them future dialogue. At home, a new housemaid tells his kids ghost stories, his sister’s crippled son is shown, and his feckless parents arrive. More fodder for the story.
Dickens spends a long time figuring out Scrooge’s name then Scrooge himself shows up to taunt and frustrate him. The story and the cast grow as his audience of family members, the maid, and a few friends listen and comment.
Then writer’s block appears, and Dickens must figure out Scrooge’s and his own emotional secret so he can finish the manuscript on time.
I won’t say any more about the plot, but it explains the creative process in a way that makes sense to people who don’t write.
He also spent a bit too lavishly, so yes, he always needed money it seems.